Timshel
by Dawn N
Summary: This story picks up where the Season Six Finale faded to black. It will most likely be AU once season seven starts in the fall. Repercussions from the wall tumbling down must be dealt with among other things.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters were created by Eric Kripke and are owned by the CW Network. No profit is being made.

**Note to Readers:** I know it has been a while since my last fic, sorry! Well, we've got a long summer hiatus to face after the crushing season 6 finale. So, onward and upward, as we wait for season 7 to start in the fall. This will be AU I'm sure once the season 7 premiere airs, but I had to do something, so this story picks up where the screen faded on the finale. I'll try to update weekly probably on the weekend at some point.

**Side Note:** the title of the story has a few different definitions, I lean toward the Hebrew take on the word – meaning, 'Thou Mayest' which implies choice. Man's choice between good and evil. Also, it's a great song, too!

**Timshel**

**Chapter 1**

By Dawn Nyberg

"… _And Death is at your doorstep; and it will steal your innocence, but it will not steal your substance. But, you are not alone in this … as brothers we will stand …"_ lyric excerpt from Mumford and Sons, _Timshel_

"I'm your new God. A better one, so you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord, or I shall destroy you." Castiel leveled a dark look on Bobby and Dean. There was a pause and then he turned toward Sam, who vacillated between looking at his brother and Bobby and back to Castiel. "Bow down and profess unto me, Sam," the former angel's voice held no kind familiarity that Sam once knew.

"You leave him alone," Dean started to take a step toward the now walking, talking soul nuclear reactor. Bobby cupped a hand over Dean's shoulder stopping him.

"Quiet boy," he hissed under his breath.

"Be quiet," Dean looked at Bobby, his voice incredulous. "You know what he did to Sam. He took the wall in his head down … made him remember all that crap." Castiel looked at Dean for a moment seeming nonplussed.

"It was necessary Sam," Castiel's voice flat. "As I said, I am glad you made it. Now, profess unto me, your Lord or die."

Sam took an unsteady step backward, his left leg seeming just a tad hesitant, his eyes were haunted and scared and Dean silently raged under the restraining hand of Bobby. "Bow down and profess," Castiel leveled hard eyes on the youngest Winchester.

Sam started to open his mouth but the words wouldn't come. His speech was fractured and garbled. He tried again and this time his words died inside his throat a guttural sort of stutter inside his mouth. Sam's eyes filled but tears did not break free and then a flash of burning of pain crossed his mind and he grabbed his head with a flinch.

"Sammy?" Dean barked his voice thick with concern. Sam steadied and looked at Castiel but the words wouldn't come.

The former angel studied the young man and something flitted across his eyes, his face that Sam recognized, it was guilt and sorrow. Perhaps, their friend wasn't lost after all. Castiel stepped back seeming to gather himself up and he was gone in a blink. No flutter of wings, just gone. Dean and Bobby looked around quickly and it was clear Cas had left. "Sammy?" Dean stepped forward. He pulled his brother into a hug and held on tight. He thought he'd lost his little brother. "You're gonna be okay, Sammy. I'm here," and with those two words, 'I'm here,'a reminder of Stull before the fall, Sam's precarious hold on his emotions shattered and his legs folded. Dean followed Sam down to his knees supporting his sibling. They needed to get out of there but that didn't matter when Sam was shattering in front of them. "You did real good Sammy, you got here. I'm proud of you little brother."

Sam tried to speak but only managed a garbled, blurred version of Dean's name, but it was enough for his big brother. "Yeah, it's me. You're gonna be okay." Bobby just dropped his hand on Sam's head while the boy trembled in his brother's arms kneeling on the concrete floor.

"You boys think we might be able to get out of here before Meglo-Cas decides to come back?"

"Sammy?" Dean looked at his brother and Sam offered a tentative nod. "Okay, I gotcha." Dean looked at Bobby. "Ugh, the Impala is going to be a problem Bobby." The older man suddenly remembered the car had been flipped. He yanked off his hat.

"Balls!" he ran a hand across his forehead and put his hat back on, "okay, let me think a second." Dean helped Sam stand and kept a steadying hand on his brother's arm while keeping another hand at the small of his little brother's back. Bobby pulled out his cell and walked across the room pacing back and forth waiting for a pick-up. Dean tried not to let his mind paint nightmare scenarios about Sam and his apparent inability to formulate speech. It was fixable, and Dean wouldn't accept another outcome.

"Boys, I called in a heap of favors, I got a friend, he's a hunter that's bringin' some help to get the Impala hoisted up and will get us out of here. He's twenty minutes out; he knows the place, so let's get out of here." Bobby looked distastefully at the bloody remnants of what used to be Raphael.

Bobby stood at the front screen door and gazed out over the salvage yard. He could see the Impala glisten in the early morning sunlight as it crested over the distant trees. It had been another long night. They had returned back to South Dakota a couple days ago and he still felt like he was in the murky remnants of a bad dream. Sam's speech hadn't improved and the boy was frustrated, he could walk but his steps were faltering at times and he couldn't miss the seemingly permanent lines of worry that have settled at the corners of Dean's eyes. But, it was Sam's nightmares; memories of Hell climbing to the surface as he slept that were the hardest to watch. He experienced flashes out of the blue without warning during the day but even his sleep was tormented. Castiel had made no more appearances and he just wasn't sure if that was a bad or good thing.

The floor creaked behind him and he turned. He studied Dean's tired features, "He asleep?"

Dean nodded tiredly, "Yeah, for a couple hours now, no nightmares. I just needed some coffee and then I'll go sit with him again."

"I can sit Dean; you need to get some rest boy. You ain't gonna be doin' Sam any good if you drop over." Bobby's eyes were soft and caring.

Dean cast a glance back into the study and spied his little brother sleeping on the couch his face turned toward him. "What if a dream starts, I can't …"

"Can't what son? Can't leave him alone, he' snot alone in this Dean. We're both here for him and I can stand watch now. Get some sleep," he urged. "You already got a place made up on the floor, so use it. You'll be with him but get some sleep." Dean nodded his assent. Bobby smiled; it was a small victory to be cherished. Dean hesitated and looked at the older hunter.

"He's carrying a lot ... those memories of being soulless and ... he needs help Bobby the memories of Hell, I can try to help him with those but his Hell wasn't mine, and he still can't really talk, I don't know what …" Bobby put a reassuring hand on Dean's shoulder.

"I got some ideas about the speech problem, I'm working on it. Sam's gonna get whatever help he needs, okay? That boy comes from strong stock," he nudged Dean to remind him that he did too, and the slight smile he got from the young man was both an admission of agreement and thanks. "Now, sleep," he ordered with a light voice and cuff of the head.

"Yes, sir." Dean settled near the couch keeping Sam in sight and only a couple or so paces away if he were needed. It was less than ten minutes when Bobby heard the change in breathing and knew Dean was asleep, pulled under quickly by exhaustion.

He leaned back and watched both his boys sleep. The road ahead wasn't going to be easy but when was it ever. He got comfortable with a book and watched his family sleep.

**To Be Continued**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Supernatural and its characters were created by Eric Kripke and are owned by the CW Network. No profit is being made.

**Note to Readers: **Thank you for all of the review! I have replied to everyone that left me a means to reply back to, but for all readers that don't sign in, please know I am thankful for your reviews despite not having a means to say so individually. Apologies in advance for any type-O's! I hope you continue to enjoy the story as it develops and I will 'try' to update on weekends. I hope you like this new chapter. Thanks again for reading, it's appreciated!

**Timshel**

**Chapter 2**

By Dawn Nyberg

"… _Open your eyes, save yourself from fading away now, don't let it go …"_ lyric excerpt by Within Temptation, _The Heart of Everything_

Dean paced the narrow confines of the office. "Dean, son, sit, you're makin' me tired just watching you … you're pacing like some kind of caged animal." Bobby rubbed at his beard. They'd been sitting in his friend's nicely decorated office at the hospital ever since he went to examine Sam at their request.

"I thought you said this Frank Benson guy was good," Dean frowned and looked at his watch. "He's had Sammy for a good three hours and nada." Bobby had contacted a friend and former hunter who retired from the things that go bump in the night and went back to practicing medicine at Sanford Medial Center in Sioux Falls not far from Singer Salvage.

"Dean, he's a damn fine neurologist and he'll be in when he can." Bobby and Dean had continued to worry about Sam's speech issues and his left side still seemed lagging not much just enough to count if they had to go up against something and although he tried to mask it to Dean and Bobby it looked like he was having some kind of swallowing problems. They had waited, giving Sam another couple days waiting to see if it was just some weird after effect that would abate. It hadn't and when the fifth day had come since they had been back at Bobby's after Castiel left declaring himself the new God. Bobby had thought of his friend earlier but when day five had arrived with no improvements he suggested his friend to Dean.

Dean had been a little resistant to bringing a stranger in on this but he was a former hunter, a doctor, Bobby's trusted friend and hopefully he could help Sammy and that was all that mattered.

There was a brief knock at the door as Frank Benson walked in, "Hi guys, sorry I kept you waiting … a lot to take care of and I wanted to cover all bases." Dean looked behind the physician and didn't see his brother.

"Where's Sammy?" Dean asked. "You're not done?"

"The exams are done," Dr. Benson offered. Bobby knew that look on the doctors face.

"I hear a loud 'but' Frank, is Sam just dressing or something?" Bobby threw the bone out there trying to give Dean something to latch onto.

Frank closed his office door, "Please guys, sit and I'm gonna give you the run down."

"Where's Sam?" Dean insisted as he sat down in front of the doctor's desk.

"Settled in a private room up on the neurology unit and I'll take you up to him after I discuss some things with the two of you." Frank had been briefed on what Sam had endured, Hell, the wall and its crumbling, seizures induced by memories and his symptoms after waking from the wall collapse.

"Private room, why the hell is he there?" Dean barked. "You admitted him?"

"Yes," the doctor answered simply.

"What's wrong with him? You find out why he's havin' trouble talking and …" Dean broke off and ran an unsteady hand over his hair.

"Easy Dean, let Frank talk. What's the run down Frank?" Bobby asked concern heavy in his voice.

"Sam suffered a CVA due to the trauma of the wall coming down. The CT and MRI confirm the diagnosis. Bobby felt ill and Dean looked from Bobby back to the doctor.

"What's a CVA?"

"It's short for cerebral vascular accident," the physician elaborated. Dean quirked an eyebrow and pursed his lips and Frank broke it down further before Sam's brother imploded. "He had a stroke, Dean." Dean felt the bile rise unbidden and he lurched forward just as Frank Benson grabbed his wastebasket and held it as Dean's stomach continued to spasm. Bobby was stunned at how fast Dean went from irate to sick in seconds. He leaned forward and placed a supporting hand between Dean's shoulder blades.

"Easy son," Bobby offered soothingly although he felt complete terror on the inside, the word stroke is scary for anyone but especially when you're talking about a kid in his 20's.

Twenty minutes later Dean was settled back in his chair after using the doctor's personal bathroom to rinse his mouth off and his face. Frank looked at both men and could see guilt in them, so he was quick to offer some kind words. "Bobby, Dean, look there is no way it would have crossed your mind that Sam had had a stroke. After listening to you tell me about how when he got his soul back he was unconscious for ten days and even on IV fluids. It's reasonable to think there would be no reason …" Dean put his hand up.

"Cut the crap doc, I screwed up and Sammy is payin' for it," Dean chastised himself. "I should have hauled his ass to the first hospital when he couldn't talk and was stumbling around."

"Dean …" Bobby started.

"Don't Bobby, I mean it. Look I've seen those commercials, the whole, 'time lost is brain lost' … what have I done to him," Dean's jaw was tight but his eyes glassy with unshed tears.

"Dean," Dr. Benson started. "Relatively speaking in terms of a CVA, Sam's is minor if you can call a stroke minor. There was no facial droop or other issues. In fact, his mobility issues are very minor and he has compensated quite well and with some physical therapy he'll bounce back Dean. He's young and a speech therapist can help him regain his speaking and he'll get some re-training on his swallowing issues. This wasn't a massive episode, he isn't in a coma or incapacitated. It could have been much worse," the doctor tried to assure, but Dean didn't seem to be finding comfort.

"What about the memories? Huh? I've seen him have a couple flashes … he hasn't blacked out but it's a lot of pain. What if he has another big flash and he seizes again, huh? Is he going to keep having strokes or what?"

"Sam didn't have a CVA due to a blood clot per se, it was a traumatic brain injury of sorts. His case is unique Dean; there aren't textbook cases to refer to for brain injury caused by reliving hell and a year plus without a soul. Look I know the brain but there are areas of Sam's case where even having been a hunter I'm flying blind. I'm not sure what is going to happen physically or psychologically with Sam but I'm going to do everything in my power to get him well."

"Why'd you admit him?"

"Well, a CVA isn't anything to treat lightly. I want to make sure there aren't any progressing issues, although it does appear that he has reached a plateau in side effects from the vascular event."

"You mean you're worried he could get worse or what he's got gong on could get worse?" Dean's mouth thinned out under his internal stress.

"His vitals which are strong are being monitored and he is being monitored to assure his condition is stable and not showing progression. So, yes, I'm seeing if we're at a stopping point or if he shows more symptoms. I'm keeping him a couple days and then he can have his walking papers. Look, Dean, I know you're worried, but Sam is coherent and understands language just fine but is having trouble communicating. Yes, there are a couple other issues but with various therapies he's gonna be back on his feet."

Frank Benson's beeper went off, he picked it up and looked at it, it read Code 99, Neuro, Rm. 108 he stood up abruptly, "What is it?" Dean barked.

Frank was already on the move, "It's a Code 99, your brother's room," he said as he grabbed his lab coat and stethoscope from the hanger behind his office door.

"What the hell does that mean?" Dean asked as he and Bobby followed the doctor to the elevator as the physician inserted his clearance card to override the elevator from stopping on other floors and went straight to the Neuro unit. "Answer me!" Dean grabbed the man's arm as he stepped off.

"It means they've called a code but to what extent I don't know, let me go see. Wait there," he pointed to a waiting room. "Bobby, take him, now!"

Frank Benson ran toward Sam's room and entered quickly taking in that the situation was very critical, Sam was violently seizing, frothy saliva coming from his mouth and his skin color was an ashy blue. "Dammit, we gotta stop the seizure," Dr. Reynolds barked as he looked up at Dr. Benson, his mentor, when he walked in. "Push the Ativan, now!" Dr. Reynolds commanded. Frank stepped up indicating he was taking over running the code of his patient and Dr. Reynolds nodded. They needed to stop the seizure … Sam wasn't breathing during it and from the color of his face and lips he was becoming cyanotic, he needed oxygen now, but they had to get the violent seizure stopped first. "Run of multiple PVC's, he's heading for an arrest," Dr. Reynolds barked and Frank knew they were running out of time before Sam's heart stopped all together.

**To Be Continued **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** The characters of Supernatural were created by Eric Kripke and are owned by the CW Network. No profit is being made.

**Note to Readers:** Thanks to all the reviews and comments I have received for chapter 1-2, they are appreciated and everyone that left me a means to contact back I did reply to. Remember with the site changes if you don't have your PM's turned on then I can't reply to you. I was short on time this week, so the chapter didn't progress as far as I would have liked but I'll try to make next weekend's update longer for you. Happy Reading, I hope!

**Timshel**

**Chapter 3**

By Dawn Nyberg

Dean alternated between staring at the clock and at the doors to the ICU. It had been thirty minutes since Dr. Frank Benson had fled through the doors to help his brother. "We'll hear something soon Dean," Bobby broke the silence.

"I can't lose him Bobby," Dean's voice was tight inside his throat.

"You won't." Dean looked at the man he considered his surrogate father.

"I made the decision to get his soul back Bobby … It meant more to me than the consequences and agreeing to that damn wall. This is all my fault."

"Listen to me and you listen good boy," Bobby's eyes were caring but his voice stern, fatherly. "That boy in there was thankful to have his soul back and he said you did the right thing. If you hadn't he'd still be in the cage."

"He's there now Bobby, he didn't get out not really," Dean lamented. "With every memory he's right back there."

"He'll have some set-backs Dean," Bobby reasoned and maybe some worse than others but just remember that when he snaps out of the memories he's home Dean because that's what they are memories, nightmares … he's not still in the cage. You did the right thing, so I don't want to hear you blaming yourself for this again, you hearin' me?" He nudged the young man that say next to him.

Dean nodded and went back to watching the clock and the door. The door came open with a whoosh and Frank Benson walked toward the waiting room but Dean and Bobby were already in the hallway approaching the man meeting him half-way.

"Is he okay? How's my brother?" Dean searched the man's face.

Frank dove right into explanations. "He had a seizure, a bad one."

Dean felt sick. He knew that meant Sam had had a memory so strong that he couldn't push it down and control it like he'd been able to do with the quick flashes he'd been having since he woke up in the panic room and made his way to him and Bobby when trying to stop Purgatory from being unleashed. "He's okay now, right?"

"Frank?" Bobby added. His face was the picture of deep concern.

"Stabilized," he offered but before he could continue Dean stepped forward.

"Stabilized? What that hell does that mean? What happened in there?"

"The seizure was very severe Dean. He experienced a lengthy episode of apnea, which means he wasn't breathing and we couldn't address that issue until we were able to get the seizure stopped. His heart was experiencing some arrhythmias that nearly led to a full arrest. We were able to avert that and get control of the seizure. I've listed him in critical condition right now, but he is stable." Dean offered a tight nod as he digested the tough news.

"You said he wasn't breathing during the seizure," Dean's voice was thick with concern.

"Yes, but when the seizure responded to medication and stopped we were able to bag him a minute or two and he pinked up and was breathing on his own. I have him on some supplemental oxygen but he is breathing on his own," Dr. Benson assured.

"So, no complications from the lack of oxygen?" Bobby questioned. He needed to know that Sam hadn't suffered further damage.

"There should be no lasting side effects from the lack of oxygen," Frank assured. Both Dean and Bobby looked at each other, just a hint of relief from those words but still clearly worried about Sam.

Two hours later Dean sat in the dim ICU room with only a little moonlight coming through the blinds. Bobby was down in the cafeteria getting some coffee for the two of them as both men decided they weren't leaving Sam alone. Frank had given permission for them both to stay with Sam. Dean watched Sam sleep, nasal oxygen tubing stretched to the wall and Dean watched the gentle rise and fall of his little brother's chest. He'd woken briefly earlier but was a little confused and very groggy both normal according to Dr. Benson. Dean's mind wandered.

"D'n" it came out garbled and he sat forward instantly. Sam was looking at him and even offered a sheepish smile. "S-sorry, I …" he was frustrated. He had a lot to say and the words were in his head but his damn mouth screwed them all up.

"Sammy," Dean could almost read his mind and saw the frustration. "Nothin' to be sorry for kiddo," he assured. "You scared the shit out of me Sammy," his voice carrying no anger just brotherly concern. "You want to try and tell me about?" Dean knew it was hard for Sam to voice himself but he wanted to try anyway. Sam shook his head.

"But it was Hell right; you got smacked with a bad memory, right?" Sam's eyes darted his way and then he fixated on his hands and nodded slightly.

"Sammy, you need to talk about it … it's gonna eat you alive. Look, I know talking ain't your best thing right now … you wanna write it down," he offered. "I could get you your own journal or something. I just want to help you," he lamented.

It was silent for a long moment and Dean didn't push. His little brother was fragile and he'd do this on Sam's timetable not his own. Dean leaned back in his chair backing off. "I-I was," Sam paused searching for the right words. "I-I was b-burning and h-he l-laughed t-then the ccc-cutting…" Sam's eyes misted and Dean felt his heart shred. He stood up and leaned down pulling his brother close.

"You're gonna be okay, Sammy." He soothed and felt the gentle tremors of latent fear in his little brother. He rubbed his back gently. "It's gonna be okay." He reiterated and it would be because there wasn't another option. He get Sam whatever help he needed, do whatever he had to for his little brother.

Bobby stood outside the room coffee cups trembling in his hands as he collected himself from what he'd heard Sam say and listening to Dean comfort his younger sibling. These were his boys and the road ahead wasn't going to be easy. He took a breath, lightly wrapped on the glass sliding door to the room and entered.

**To Be Continued**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** The characters of "Supernatural" were created by Eric Kripke and are owned by the CW Network. No profit is being made.

**Note to Readers: **Thanks for the reviews and comments they are appreciated! I thought chapter 3 was going to be a complete flop and then you gave me such wonderful comments and reviews I was actually surprised! Thanks! I hope you like the fourth chapter in this story. I appreciate you taking the time to read! Happy Reading, I hope!

**Timshel**

**Chapter 4**

By Dawn Nyberg

Sam had been home from the hospital two weeks and despite Bobby and Dean's attempt to get him to practice his speech he was still very quiet. Sam was seeing a speech therapist that Frank had recommended and trusted. Dean would convince Sam in the early evenings to go on walks with him through the salvage yard and he'd talk to him about whatever came to mind. Sometimes he'd coax out of Sam more details of his time in the cage but it was precarious work … always afraid the wrong memory would wash over Sam and be the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back. Sam would mention some things, snap-shots really sort of like the hospital and when he shared with Dean about being burned alive and flayed by knives slowly. The memories were scary not just for their content but the actual physical, visceral reaction they caused Sam. He was getting better at controlling them but there was still a major underlying fear that one would simply snap Sam.

There hadn't been anymore seizures but he'd grabbed his head more than once from a sudden memory and once dropped to the floor weighed down by the sudden tsunami but there wasn't a seizure and he had remained conscious, just scared afterward and a lot shell-shocked. Frank was working on finding a therapist for Sam hoping that it may be easier for him to tell a stranger than his brother … not because the boy didn't trust his big brother but rather not burden him with feeling some sort of guilt for what he went through. He knew of a couple therapists that were familiar with hunting and the things that go bump in the night; he just had to find one he thought could help Sam.

He'd never really shared that much about Hell with his little brother. Sure he'd given him the cliff notes – Sam knew he'd been tortured on the rack for thirty years before he got off and spent ten years being the pupil of Alastair and tortured souls himself. He knew that his experiences in Hell although bad were still nothing in comparison to being in the cage with Lucifer and Michael for a year and a half. After all time was different down there. Dean knew is four months was more like forty years, so Sam's year and a half made him sick to his stomach … to think that 1 year and six months came out to 180 years in not just Hell but the cage, Dean wasn't sure how his brother even survived the memories.

Sam's walking and balance were getting better and his speech when he spoke was still hesitant and garbled at times he was trying hard with the speech therapist but reluctant to talk that much at home. He wasn't really experiencing any major swallowing difficulties any longer despite the speech issues remaining for now. Dean was still fixing up the Impala from it being flipped on its roof when the crap hit the fan in Kansas and the whole Purgatory thing with Castiel happened a little over a month ago. Dean didn't think about his once trusted friend that much but when he did it was always a mixed bag of emotion, 1 part familial need to find him and help him see what all that power had done to him and save him from himself and 1 part unequaled rage at using his little brother and bringing the wall down knowing what the consequences would most likely be … so the dichotomy of his inner struggle was such that it was easier to just not think about Cas.

"Y-you o-okay?" Sam's voice was quiet and tentative. Dean started at his brother's voice. He'd been out with the Impala giving Sam some breathing room back at the house knowing that Bobby would keep an eye on the kid. Sam offered a sheepish grin at startling his big brother, "s-sorry," he stuttered. Dean cocked his head slightly and smiled gently at his brother.

"Nah, Sammy, nothin' to be sorry for … just thinkin'" Dean assured.

"B-been out h-here f-for a while," Sam countered.

"Just fixin' up my baby that's all," he said with a rueful smile and patted the Impalas roof. "I think she'll be back to her old self in another week or two. That toss did more than damage the roof. Her engine got a little jacked up too, so I needed to do some tweaks. There's a bit more fine tuning but she'll be as good as new," Dean said with confidence. "How you doin' Sammy?" His little brother looked tired.

"O-Okay."

Dean glanced at his watch, "you eat any lunch yet?" Sam shook his head causing his long bangs to drop across his forehead. Dean stared at him for a moment. He hadn't seen bangs on his kid brother for a while and it took him back to when he collected him at Stanford … he looked a lot younger with bangs. Sam reached up and pushed them back with a hand. "No? Well, I say we go get Bobby and go to that little Barbeque place in town that's got some great pulled pork sandwiches and Baby-back ribs." Sam turned up his nose a little. Dean rolled his eyes and huffed at his brother, "They got pulled chicken too Sammy and that rabbit food you like." Sam chuckled and Dean felt warm.

"N-not r-rabbit food D-Dean … it's c-called salad."

"Yeah, what ever you say Bugs," he cuffed his little brother's on the back of his head. "Come on let's get Bobby and go into town." Sam hesitated just a moment and Dean looked at him. He smiled gently at his kid brother. "It's okay Sammy, just some grub at a little mom and pops place … no crowds and drama, I promise. Okay?" His brother was still skittish and felt out of place when he needed to talk in public. Sam nodded and walked with his brother back to the house.

Dean was pulled from a pleasant dream of quiet dockside fishing to restless sounds and whimpers from the bed next to him. He was up and out of his bed before he was even fully awake. He turned on the dim bedside lamp separating their beds in the upstairs room at Bobby's. Sam was covered in sweat and his brow was creased in some undisclosed torment. "Sammy? Shh, it's okay," Dean soothed as he put a hand gently on his brother's head. "Just a bad dream, you're okay. I'm here," he assured. The whimpers quieted and he stilled under his big brother's assurances. Sam sighed in his sleep and Dean watched the traces of disquiet ease from his brother's face. He rose from the bed and returned with a cool damp cloth.

Dean gently wiped the cool cloth across his brother's brow cleaning away the cold sweat. Is cheeks looked a little flushed and Dean felt them. They were a little warm but he'd discovered Sam often became feverish while dreaming … his body's way of coping with the images of whatever nightmares he was having. Sam's eyes cracked open and were glassy with sleep and disorientation. "D'n" sounded garbled and sleep inflected but Dean smiled anyway.

"Everything's okay Sammy. You were just havin' a bad dream," he calmed. "Go back to sleep little brother," he urged and thankfully for once his kid brother listened to him and did just that as he closed his eyes, sighed and just as he slipped back into a sleep a small smile quirked at the edge of his mouth and Dean hoped his brother stayed in whatever pleasant dream had just claimed him. He wanted Sam to find some peace away from the memories that haunted him. He sat with Sam a few minutes longer assuring himself that his brother's sleep remained restful. He clicked off the lamp and climbed back into his own bed. He stared at the ceiling streaked by moonlight and listened to Sam breathe evenly in sleep. Sam's peace was his peace and he drifted back to sleep.

Morning was uneventful, Bobby had managed to get a warm breakfast into both boys and now had the house to himself as Dean had taken Sam to speech therapy in town and wouldn't be back for another hour. He sat down to enjoy a cup of coffee and the phone rang. He saw the caller ID was the hospital and his heart sped up. "Hello?"

"Hey, Bobby," it's was Frank Benson's voice. "How are you? How are the boys" Bobby relaxed as his fear that it was Dean calling to say Sam had had a set-back and was in the ER was relieved.

"The boys are good. Dean took Sam into town for his speech therapy."

"Yes, I've been getting update notes from Celia, Sam's therapist. She said he's making a lot of progress and is trying hard. You know he has a follow-up appointment with me next Friday."

"It's marked on the calendar," Bobby replied. "Now, somethin' is tellin' me you ain't suddenly becoming your own receptionist since they sent out a reminder card this week. What's up?"

"Well, after a few calls I found a therapist that can take Sam's case, Gavin Ryan, he's a licensed board certified psychiatrist. I knew him in med school and better yet, he comes from a family of hunters but never embraced the life. He's really good Bobby. I had him in mind the whole time but just had to find where he was practicing now and it turns out he's not far … he's in Wyoming but he's agreed to come here if Sam's up for it. He's going to bunk with me, I got plenty of room and he's willing to see Sam at the hospital for therapy. All I have to do is call him and give the green light."

"So, he's a M.D., huh? Knows his stuff?" Bobby asked. "I mean he may be as good as you think he is but I can't imagine he's ready for the pain parade that Sam's got going on in his head. Does he know?" He left the word 'hell' unsaid.

"I've told him about what happened at Stull cemetery and that he spent a year and a half in the cage with Lucifer and Michael. He knows about the seizures, the stroke the wall coming down caused. He's completely filled in and I believe he's the best for the job if Sam will have him."

"I'll talk to the boys when they get home. So, we cam trust this guy not to lock Sam up?" Bobby's voice was gruff, protective.

"Sam's not crazy Bobby," Frank assured. "He's not going to think he's certifiable when he starts talking about Hell. He knows what is out there Bobby, like I said he comes from a family of hunters."

"Okay, then," Bobby agreed. "I'll talk to Dean and Sam when they get back and we'll give you a call." Bobby hung up and blew out a breath. This could be a saving step in the right direction for Sam or a land mine just waiting to be stepped on and triggered. He'd talk to his boys tonight and they'd decide as a family.

**To Be Continued**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** The characters of "Supernatural" were created by Eric Kripke and are owned by the CW Network. No profit is being made.

**Note to Readers: **Thanks as always for reading and reviewing! I reply to everyone that leaves me a way to contact them but for those that don't, please know that I appreciate your comments and reviews although I am unable to reply to you directly. It's a short chapter but free-time has suddenly become a slim commodity for me, but I wanted to post something rather than nothing. Happy Reading, I hope!

**Timshel**

**Chapter 5**

By Dawn Nyberg

"… _On a stormy sea of moving emotion, tossed about I'm like a ship on the ocean. I set my own course for winds of fortune, but I hear the voices say, Carry on, you will always remember…"_ Kansas, _Carry On Wayward Son_

Bobby sat watching Dean and Sam as they sat side by side on his couch after Bobby telling them about the therapist Frank had found. He'd told them that Dr. Gavin Ryan, M.D., was from a family of hunters, so he understood the life and he'd been briefed on Sam. Oddly enough it was Dean that bristled and Sam sat quietly, thinking what ever he does in that big head of his, Bobby thought fondly.

"What's with the constipated look boy?" Bobby focused his eyes on Dean. "I thought you'd think this was a good thing for Sam."

Dean cast a look at his younger brother a moment and then at Bobby. "Look I just don't trust strangers with Sammy, okay … specially one that comes from a hunting family. Maybe, he's got his own agenda okay … I'm sure there are plenty of more Roy's and Walt's out there gunning for my brother." Bobby understood the reference as he remembered how Dean and Sam had told him how they were gunned down in a hotel room because Roy and Walt felt Sam needed put down, blamed him for starting the Apocalypse. Dean had been shot and killed simply because they felt he'd hunt them down for killing Sam. Bobby shuddered at the internal sight of both his boys dead.

"Look I understand where you're coming from but do you honestly think that I didn't start making calls the moment I hung up with Frank kid? I checked the family out and Gavin, too. They sound like good people and Gavin turns out he did hunt with them up until it was time for med school and they've supported his decisions." Dean's mouth pursed at Bobby's words, glancing fleetingly at his brother. It was obvious both of them remembered how their father had handled Sam wanting to go off to school.

"Well, I gotta meet this dude and feel him out for myself." He looked at his brother, "you've been quiet Sammy … what're you thinkin' kiddo? This something you're ready for if this guy is kosher?"

"M-maybe, b-but why at h-hospital and n-not h-here?" Sam's troubled and scared eyes fell on his brother. Dean looked at Bobby for the answer to that.

"He's got a point Bobby," Dean replied. "Why isn't he coming here? I mean isn't this more comfortable for Sammy, safe?"

"It's mostly precaution Dean, he's been told about how the memories can cause seizures and after the one that nearly …" Bobby cut off he couldn't bring himself to say, nearly killed Sam. Dean seemed to understand.

"Yeah," he replied his voice tight and emotional at the recalled memory of the hospital. "It's just to make sure you're safe Sammy, just in case you have a bad reaction, you know?"

Sam nodded. "So, you think you're willing to try talking to the doc?" Dean asked his brother. "Look I'll be there okay in the lobby of the office or inside if you want me to be," Dean offered with genuine love and support in his eyes. Sam looked at him and Dean suddenly wondered if he was crowding his little brother, "hey, I can walk you up there and go to the cafeteria if you want me to Sammy, I don't want you to feel like …" Sam put a hand on his brother's arm to stop the end of his sentence.

"N-no want you n-nearby. Okay?" Dean smiled gently at his kid brothers words.

"Whatever you need Sammy, I'll do it," Dean replied and reached up and cupped the back of his brother's neck and gave it a soft squeeze.

Dean sat reading a copy of _People_ not really caring about what he was reading but needing to do something mindless as he waited for Sam to finish with his therapy session. This was his third session with Gavin at the hospital. Sam met with the doctor on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays and this was the final day of the first week. They met for one hour the first and second day but today was a two hour session.

"What are you remembering now Sam," Gavin's voice soft, comforting. The doctor saw the distant look in his patient's eyes and he knew he was elsewhere. Sam hadn't been heaping the info out in session, but was supplying fragments and Dr. Ryan figured it was Sam compartmentalizing the flashes he'd get. Sam had total recall but his brain was processing the memories in mini-grenades that either sent Sam to the floor or flinching under the onslaught. "Sam?"

"H-he tried t-to be nice s-sometimes but it w-was a lie," he replied quietly keeping his eyes down staring at his hands in his lap.

"He who? Lucifer?" he asked gently. Sam visibly flinched at the name. "You're safe here Sam. You're not in the cage anymore," the doctor encouraged. Sam looked at him and nodded. "Try verbalizing Sam," he encouraged.

There was a pause and Sam answered, "Y-yes."

"Sam, Lucifer can be the great deceiver, he'll try many tactics but in the end you beat him at his own game. You got him back in the cage and averted the Apocalypse. You knowing his attempts at civility were a lie show you were never duped."

"H-he used A-Adam s-sometimes," Sam's eyes misted.

"Your half-brother?" Gavin was made aware of some family history and knew that Adam was a half-brother that was used as Michael's vessel and went into the pit with Sam, too.

"H-he's still t-there," Sam's voice trembled. "M-mostly h-he left him alone … h-hurt just me, b-but now that I-I'm here…" Sam didn't finish and just looked at his hands feeling lost.

"You're worried that he's suffering because you're not there to be his big brother, right? Sam it's not your fault. It feels like it, I know … but it isn't."

"S-supposed to p-protect f-family," Sam's voice sounded lost.

"True, but we do it to the best of our ability Sam and sometimes no matter how hard we try family still gets hurt. It's not your fault." He reiterated and Sam looked up making eye contact and offered a tight nod. "Sam you've mentioned burning to me and cutting did Lucifer torture in other ways that you're ready to talk about?" Sam looked at the man and studied him.

"Y-you want me t-to tell you but t-trust me you don't w-want this s-stuff in your h-head d-doc …" Sam lamented.

"I can take a lot Sam. Try me," he encouraged. He didn't want to force a memory fearing the medical repercussions that could happen but they were in a hospital for that purpose. "What else do you remember?" Sam sat silent for a moment his mind digging past the fire and cutting, the only warning Dr. Ryan got before Sam was gasping and pitching forward to the floor was a guttural wounded animal sound that should never come from anyone.

**To Be Continued**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** The characters of "Supernatural" were created by Eric Kripke and are owned by the CW Network. No profit is being made.

**Note to Readers: **Thanks as always for the PM's, comments and reviews they are all appreciated! It's been a busy few days for me, so sorry this chapter is on the lean side, but I wanted to get something out to you all since I left you on a little cliffy with the last chapter. Happy Reading, I hope!

**Timshel**

**Chapter 6**

By Dawn Nyberg

Dr. Ryan dove forward to attend to Sam, he wasn't seizing but he was curled forward on his knees, his forehead resting in the carpet struggling to calm his breathing that was edging toward hyperventilation. His tall frame shook like a leaf.

"Easy Sam," Gavin tried to soothe. He placed a hand on his patient's back and felt the rigid slab muscles. His touch didn't soothe however as Sam cringed further into a huddled quivering ball and began this quiet whimpering that tore at Dr. Ryan. He knew Sam didn't need him right now he needed someone else, his brother. "It's going to be okay Sam. I know who you need right now," he said as he rose quickly to his feet and opened his office door. There was a short hallway with another door to his office's reception area. The hallway provided a sense of privacy, so that anyone in the reception area couldn't easily hear what was being said.

Dean jerked at the sudden opening of the door and stared at the doctor. "What is it?" he barked and dropped the magazine he hadn't really been reading.

"You're needed," and that was all Dean had to hear and he was halfway down the hall with the Gavin telling him what to expect when he got there and what had happened prior to Sam's collapse. Dean bent down and splayed a hand across the middle of his little brother's back while his other hand worked its way under Sam's forehead. "Hey kiddo, you wanna think about not grinding your head any further into the carpet man, you're not a _Spot Bot_, okay?" Dean tried for a little lightness wanting to reach his brother. He tried to block the wounded animal sounds coming from him, he couldn't allow himself to focus on that noise. Dean kept talking nonsense to his brother speaking in hushed huddled tones that Gavin couldn't quite understand but the effects were clearly visible. The horrible pained sounds stopped first and then he could visibly see the physical changes in his patient. Sam's muscles were relaxing and he allowed Dean to pull him up out his tight huddled position to be pulled back as Dean sat down and pulled his little brother into an embrace.

He watched Sam pull back and make eye contact with his brother and then he leaned forward placing his forehead on his brother's chest while Dean's hand came up keeping his brother protectively close. ""It's gonna be okay Sammy. You did good little brother. No seizure," he encouraged. "I'm here."

Dr. Gavin Ryan sat back and gave the brother's room. Dean urged Sam up and helped him to the couch he'd been sitting on. Dean sat down next to his brother with the sides of their legs touching. Dr. Ryan checked Sam over, he timed out Sam's pulse while he watched his watch and gave him a once over. "Is he okay?" Dean asked trying to mask his anxiousness.

"Pulse is coming down nicely," he looked at Sam and smiled reassuringly. He tentatively began, "Sam, I know this may seem too soon but it's important that you access that memory while it's still in the forefront of your mind before you bury it completely. What were you remembering?"

"Doc," Dean's tone held a little warning to it as his eyes shifted back to his brother.

"I'm not trying to force Dean but it's important."

"Yeah, maybe you're right but this is only the third session, so dial it back a little, okay?" Dean reached up and squeezed the nape of his brother's neck. Sam offered a small smile, it wasn't his usual but Dean would take what he could get at the moment. He looked back at the doctor.

"You're right," Dr. Ryan acquiesced. "We're not running a race here, are we Sam?" he offered lightly. "Rest up this weekend and I'll see you on Monday but if you boys need me for any reason over the weekend don't hesitate to call you can reach me at Frank's."

Dean nodded and wrapped an arm around his brother's curved shoulders, "Come on Sammy, think you can stand?" Sam nodded. Dean helped Sam stand and started to walk out and Sam stopped. He looked at Dr. Ryan.

"T-thanks," it was quiet and he dropped his eyes looking more at Gavin's chest than his eyes.

"We're going to get you sorted out Sam. No need to thank me." He gently clapped a hand on his patient's shoulder. "Go get some rest, doctor's orders, okay?" Sam nodded and left with his big brother.

Bobby looked past Dean toward his library where Sam had retreated to after dinner. They could hear the TV droning on and the quiet sounds of pages turning. Bobby knew Sam was most likely on he couch with some old book in his lap he'd pulled from either a shelf or a floor stack. "So, he seemed okay at dinner. The memory didn't cause a seizure, so that's good, right?"

"Bobby you didn't see him, hear the noises coming out of him, it was like," Dean paused a moment. "It's just something I never want to hear coming from anyone especially my brother. He's hurting …"

"I know," Bobby agreed. "But, you gotta look on the bright side son." Dean gave him an incredulous look.

"Bright side? Which is?"

"No seizure … as bad as the memory was and his reaction there was no seizure. So, right there is an improvement."

"Yeah, I guess but that doesn't mean we're in the clear Bobby not by a long shot."

"I know, but let's take what we can get."

Dean nodded, "You got things in here? I think I'm gonna go in there and sit with Sammy."

"Yeah, and I got some apple pie at the bakery today for dessert."

"Mmm, pie," Dean's eyes glinted.

"You're a pie hound Dean," Bobby rolled his eyes. Dean just offered a smile and left.

Dean walked into the library and saw the TV was playing the world news and he stood watching his brother quietly. Sam had fallen asleep with a book on his chest. Dean gently lifted it off and looked at the title, _Great Expectations_, "such a nerd little brother," he whispered fondly and pulled a blanket up onto his brother. He was pleased that at least for the moment his brother's sleep looked peaceful. He sat down in a chair near the couch keeping an eye on his brother and the TV, "I got your back little brother, always will," he said quietly with a soft look on his face.

**To Be Continued **


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** The characters of "Supernatural" were created by Eric Kripke and are owned by the CW Network. No profit is being made.

**Note to Readers: **Okay, first off, sorry I didn't update last weekend I just couldn't get the time to write. So, here is the newest chapter. I'm posting today and not this weekend because I will be out of town until Sunday sometime and won't have time to post. Thank you for the reviews, PM's and comments they are all appreciated. Happy Reading, I hope!

**Timshel**

**Chapter 7**

By Dawn Nyberg

"I said I don't want to talk about it," Sam's eyes were fierce as Dr. Ryan subtly pushed in his gentle voice. His young patient had been coming regularly three days a week for over a month and a half now but Sam was beginning to push back.

"I know you don't want to Sam but you need too," he encouraged. Sam's jaw clenched noticeably and Gavin watched one of his patient's hand flex into a tight fist and release in his lap. The flex and release was so intense a couple of times Gavin was sure he heard Sam's knuckles pop. He expected the anger and was simply surprised it didn't begin to show itself until two weeks ago. "Sam," he offered with an encouraging tone. Sam stood up abruptly.

"I think I'm good for today," he said with a hint of venom but he stood stock still and made no move for the door. His eyes wouldn't meet Dr. Ryan's rather he looked out the window from across the room at the large parking lot five floors below. Gavin Ryan sat and waited as he watched his young patient, but said nothing. Sam let out a long sigh rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans and thumped back down onto the couch without a word.

"Sam you don't have to tell me everything that happened in Hell but you need to face the memories regardless. I know they aren't pleasant, I can't imagine what it was like for you there but I do know if you avoid what happened down there and try to lock it away it'll crush you little by little each day until you're dust." Sam looked at his doctor and nodded.

"I don't need to talk about everything with you, okay? Some things," he hesitated. "I can't even find words for but that doesn't mean I'm not acknowledging what happened."

"Fair enough," Gavin offered. "You also need to accept that if you did anything while down there to survive you can't blame yourself," and Sam's stricken look answered one important question about his time down under. "Feeling like you betrayed family can be a powerful poison Sam and it'll eat you alive. You have to let it go."

"What the Hell do you know?" Sam spat. "The most important thing is family, it's all I got, it's all I've ever had and I …" Sam looked away and stopped speaking.

"You don't have to go to Hell to feel like you betrayed family Sam. It's not an exclusive experience to the pit. What happened with Adam?" Gavin questioned lightly, keeping his voice even.

It was long moments of silence and then Sam quietly spoke, "I'm his big brother I should have protected him no matter what it cost me …"

"You feel like you betrayed him?"

"I did," Sam's voice was still quiet and he stared at his hands. "I should have protected him."

"But, you did from what you've told me. You took the torture and put the attention on yourself to keep him safe." Gavin reminded Sam of a conversation a couple weeks ago.

"Not always," Sam spoke, it was almost a whisper. "I tried …" Sam quietly started and then stopped. Dr. Ryan waited but Sam remained silent staring downward playing with a stray thread on his flannel shirt.

"Tried what Sam?" Gavin asked. Sam looked at him then, only briefly but he saw the devastation in his dark eyes. "Sam?"

"I tried to take it all the time but time down there its different Dean was right … I just didn't want the pain, I was so tired … I … it …" Sam's words rushed out and then he was silent not finishing his sentence. Gavin watched him and then spoke.

"So, time is different down there, I think your brother did mention that to me when he explained how long you'd been down there. He was gone four months here but it was more like forty years down there, correct?" Sam nodded. "A year and a half Sam, that's a long time, a lot of years … 180 years Sam you can't expect not to break to give into self preservation at some point."

"You never sacrifice family," Sam's voice was quiet. "I let him down."

"How long did you protect him Sam? How long was it until you got tired of the pain and the torture?" Gavin watched tears well in Sam's eyes and cascade down his cheeks. "Sam?" his voice was gentle.

"Eighty years and then I watched…" Sam's voice choked.

"Watched Lucifer and Michael torture your brother instead of you?" Sam shook his head.

"Michael never hurt Adam not sure why … maybe because he said 'yes' to being his vessel … I don't know but he never stopped Lucifer though …" Sam's candid answer sort of stunned Gavin for a moment but he regrouped quickly.

"So, it was Lucifer and you watched?"

"I didn't watch because I wanted to," Sam answered quietly. "It's just if we didn't watch the punishments then you got it, too."

"So, Adam had to watch all the times you took the torture to keep him safe and out of the line of fire?"

"I was weak," Sam replied.

"Did Adam have to watch when it was you Sam?" Dr. Ryan pushed.

"Yes."

"Sam, you said you lasted eighty years before you broke … how many times did Adam take your place being tortured?" Sam was quiet a long moment. "Sam, how many times?"

"Once," Sam's voice was rough, broken. Gavin sat stupefied and snapped out of it a moment later.

"In 180 years you only broke once … one time Adam took your place," Gavin reiterated.

"One time too many," Sam answered bluntly. "Dean would never have broke if we'd been down there, never," Sam sounded disgusted with himself.

"Sam from what your brother expressed to me is that he lasted thirty years and finally couldn't take it anymore becoming the torturer rather that the tortured … you're human Sam, your brother is human and in my eyes you're both extremely strong for what you've both endured."

"Dean's strong," Sam agreed quietly while meeting the doctor's gaze and holding it. "He tortured souls not family; he would never have done it. He would never have put me on the rack if it was a choice between me or him."

"Sam you broke only once in 180 years … that is nothing short of a miracle. Do you think Adam blamed you?"

"He was a good kid … is a good kid," Sam seemed conflicted in choosing verb tenses when it involved his kid brother. "He didn't blame me. But, it doesn't matter I blame myself." Gavin didn't want to push anymore with the Adam issue for the moment he could see the tension in Sam's jaw.

Dean sat in the lobby reading random pamphlets about various medical and mental issues to pass the time. His mind thinking about what Dr. Ryan had mentioned to him last week about seeing him once or twice a week to talk about how he was coping. Sam had already given permission to have his case discussed with his brother if he had questions. Sam wasn't telling him a whole lot but he'd get snippets and censored memories. Dean hated that Sam was trying to protect him because that was his job as a big brother. He had thought the idea was stupid at first … Dean Winchester see a shrink but maybe it'd help him help Sammy, so maybe he'd mention to the doc about talking once a week. He glanced at the door he knew led to the short hallway to the office where his little brother was and at his watch. There was only ten minutes left to Sam's session for today.

"Sam, we don't have to talk about Adam anymore for today, okay? I'd like to know if you'd like to talk about Lucifer, I know he was keen on torture but did he ever talk to you in the cage?"

Sam's mind filled with Lucifer's whispers, hissing like a snake in his ear and he shivered as the recalled memory of a finger trailing across his cheek breaking skin, drawing blood … god, his voice digging in like a tick … Sam started shaking … the words … his voice, "Nonononono," it came out as almost a mantra and Sam lifted his hands to his ears in an attempt to block out Lucifer's voice.

"Sam?" Gavin rose in concern not only for Sam's reaction but the trail of blood coming from his nose leaving a bright red track against pale white skin.

**To Be Continued**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** The characters of "Supernatural" were created by Eric Kripke and are owned by the CW Network. No profit is being made.

**Note to Readers: **Okay, first off, sorry I didn't update last weekend I just couldn't get the time to write. Now, I just got hit this morning with my first ever bout of severe vertigo, I'm still dizzy and nauseous, my apologies for the late post and if it's totally awful. So, here is the newest chapter. Thank you for the reviews, PM's and comments they are all appreciated. Happy Reading, I hope!

**Timshel**

**Chapter 8**

By Dawn Nyberg

Dean paced outside the ICU waiting to hear word about his brother. Everything had been a blur since his brother's episode in Dr. Ryan's office. "Dean, would you just sit down son," Bobby asked as he rubbed a hand across his face. Sam had been first taken to a trauma room for treatment and then moved to the ICU. They hadn't been given much news beyond the simple statement that Sam was stable.

"I'm givin' them five more minutes and then I'm going in there and asking something at the nurse's desk. Dammit, I'm comin' out of my skin," Dean lamented.

"What happened again?" Bobby asked trying to distract Dean. The younger man sighed and sat down.

"I told you Bobby, Sammy was back there in his session next thing I know there's a group of people pushing into the office lobby with a crash cart. I don't know … Sammy looked awake when they brought him out but … I don't kind of out of it and there was some blood on his face. I just want to hear something." Bobby nodded and grasped one of Dean's shoulder's an squeezed it offering comfort.

"Dean, Bobby," it was Gavin's voice.

"Is Sammy, okay? What the hell happened?"

"Okay, first things first, Sam's going to be okay. ICU is just a precaution because of the previous stroke history."

"What happened?" Dean reiterated.

"He had a hypertensive crisis," Gavin answered. "Dr. Walker is his physician and can talk more to you. In short, Sam's blood pressure had a very high spike that required aggressive treatment."

"Sammy's never had high blood pressure before," Dean leveled a hard glare on the doctor. "What happened in there? Did he have a flashback?"

"An auditory one," Dr. Ryan answered.

"Huh? You mean he's hearin' stuff now? Did that just happen or what?"

"I switched to a different approach asking him if," Dr. Ryan looked around to make sure they had privacy and kept his voice low. "I asked him if Lucifer talked to him in the cage, had conversations with him."

"You did what?" Dean ground out under his breath. "Now, my brother is in the ICU?"

"Dean, look I understand you're upset…"

"He ain't the only one," Bobby warned as he interrupted the doctor.

Dean looked at his watch and back at his sleeping brother, it had been a good forty-five minutes since Dr. Ryan explained in the waiting room what had triggered the crisis. Dean was still pissed. Sam sighed in his sleep and Dean knew he was close to waking.

Bobby eyed the entrance to ICU as he dialed his cell, "Frank?"

"Hey, Bobby I heard Sam was admitted but will be okay."

"Yeah," Bobby was short with his friend. "Look, you recommended this guy and I get that Sam's gotta work through some things but is this guy on the up and up? He just landed Sam in the ICU."

"Bobby, I know you're worried but trust me Ryan is a good guy. Sam is adjusting but despite whatever improvements you or Dean think you're seeing … just remember that kid is like a buried landmine and at any moment you step on the wrong spot and boom."

"Yeah, thanks for the analogy Frank," Bobby's tone was both wry and irritated. "So, you trust this guy, huh?"

"I do," he asserted. "I believe he can and will help Sam."

"Sammy?" Dean's voice was hushed. Sam blinked and looked at his older brother.

"You okay?" Sam's tone was quiet.

"Me? It's you've I've been worried about little brother. How you doin'?"

"I'm okay."

"Uh-huh, go fish Sammy," Dean eyed his brother. Sam studied his big brother a moment and then huffed out a small laugh. He knew Dean was calling his bluff.

"My head doesn't feel like it's going to come off now," he offered honestly.

"I'm thinkin' Ryan is a quack Sammy," Dean started.

"No, Dean, it's not his fault how I react. It's always hit and miss."

"So, what are you sayin'? You want to keep seeing him once you're cleared?"

"There isn't anyone else Dean," Sam started. "Any other doctor would lock me up once I started talking about Hell. He'd think I was a raving whack job." Dean knew his brother was right but it didn't mean he completely trusted the goy. Yeah, sure he talked to the guy, too, and didn't feel any red flags popping up, but still…

"You sure?"

"Dean, even you're talking to him, well not as often as me, but you are." Dean only offered a nod and said nothing.

"Boys," Bobby's voice broke the short moment of silence.

"Hey, Bobby," both young men said in unison as Bobby quirked a smile.

"You make your call?" Dean asked and gave the older hunter a look and he nodded.

"Yep, the new parts supplier appears pretty reparable after talking to a friend that knows him personally." Dean understood the code Bobby was talking in. "So, unless he proves his self otherwise, my contact says he's the best option for the hard to obtain parts."

Dean nodded. "So," Bobby looked at Sam. "How are you feelin' son?"

"I'll live but I want the hell out of here."

"Yeah, well, cool your jets there, Sammy," Dean started. "That Dr. Walker said your blood pressure was 240/180 and you could have stroked out Sam, this isn't a joke."

"I d-didn't say it was," Sam replied. "H-he also said I responded quickly to the treatment they gave me and now my pressure is normal." Sam's speech still had problems now and again but mostly when he was worked up. He'd been working hard on his speech therapy and had only one week left before he was going to be released from speech therapy, although, he was still going to physical therapy once a week but would soon be done, too.

"Okay, Sammy, I hear ya, easy," he coaxed not wanting his brother to get upset. "We'll see what the doc has to say in the morning when he said he'd be back, okay? Sound fair?"

Sam nodded. Dean leaned back in the chair, he wasn't going anywhere tonight and by the looks of Bobby he wasn't either.

**To Be Continued**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** The characters of "Supernatural" were created by Eric Kripke and are owned by the CW Network. No profit is being made.

**Note to Readers: **Since some of my original plans with Sammy and the consequences of the wall coming down appear to match a little of what the writers are doing for season 7, I've decided to incorporate my plans and co-mingle some of what is actually coming our way for S7. A tiny spoiler lies ahead: Sam will have some problems in distinguishing at times what his reality really is (i.e. is he still in Hell, dead, dreaming, etc.) so my plans were going to include his confusion over what was real and not, so I'm mingling my plans and actual season spoilers.

Thank you for the reviews, PM's and comments they are all appreciated; also some of you have your direct messages turned off, so if you do, that is why I haven't said thank you personally for your review and comments. I still have vertigo but it's getting better. I guess if it doesn't go away in another week my doctor says I have to go to a specialist. This story will get finished, so no worries. I will try for a post every weekend but it could be every other once in a while, sorry. I plan to have this done before the new season starts on September 23. Happy Reading, I hope!

**Timshel**

**Chapter 9**

By Dawn Nyberg

"He's been out there for awhile," Bobby commented idly to Dean watching Sam through the screen door. It had been a couple months since the last big hospital incident that got Sam in the ICU for the night. Now, they were working through some other issues with the kid.

"He needs to come in on his own Bobby, you know I can't make him," Dean turned and looked at the older hunter. "You remember the last time; the kid almost dislocated my jaw with an elbow while fighting with me."

"You want me to call Gavin?"

"No, I got this," Dean looked at the man squarely and then sighed, "_we_ got this," he said in an easier tone. Bobby nodded.

"You talk to him at all yet?"

"Yeah, from the porch but he's not budging," Dean replied. "He's just sitting on the Impala hood and watching the salvage yard."

"What'd you say? Did he even hear ya?"

"Oh, yeah, he heard me," Dean huffed a light chuckle. "Told me to screw myself," Dean paused. "And let's not forget he called me a lying bastard." Bobby smirked.

"You know it wasn't you he really thinks he's talkin' to, right? You got to keep that in mind son … those words aren't for you." Bobby reminded Dean.

Sam's disassociations had started a little over a month ago and Dean wasn't sure if he'd just prefer the seizures and nightmares. It was hard knowing that Sam was having trouble with reality. He wasn't crazy, but sometimes he wasn't sure if he was still in Hell and this was some sick joke Lucifer and Michael were playing for their personal jollies. He sometimes thought he was dead and in heaven, other times dreaming. It was a toss up. Today, he was thinking this was some tease from Lucifer and he was being defiant toward giving into the moment fearing it would all disappear the moment he did.

A half-hour later Dean watched Sam swivel on the Impala hood just a hint and look at the house and the porch. It had been a little over an hour since he'd tried to talk to Sam and coax him back inside and got a 'screw you' for his efforts. Dean took a breath and let it out slowly and with that exhale pushed the screen door open and stepped out on the porch. Sam made eye contact with him and Dean could see him visibly tense. Dean made no move to step off the porch or move a step closer.

"So, you stayin' out here the rest of the day man?" Dean asked lightly. "'Cause if you are I'm guessing you're going to need some water or something."

"Screw you!" Sam spat. "I'm not fallin' for what you're selling, okay? So, go ahead and give up Lucifer. I know this isn't real." Dean sighed.

"Sammy…"

"Shut up, you don't get to call me that," Sam was angry.

"Okay," Dean relented. "Fine, you don't want water you want a beer?" he asked and carried on talking. "Although, considering it's the middle of the day that beer ain't gonna hydrate you but if it's a cold PBR you want then just say so." Sam looked at Dean and just like that he saw the tension leave his little brother. "Sammy?" he hazarded.

Sam slid off the car hood, "Dean?" his voice a little choked and a lot confused. "It really is you? This isn't some cage game?"

"Really me Sammy," Dean encouraged. "So, you think you might want to come in now?" Sam walked toward him and up the creaky wooden steps to Bobby's porch.

Sam stepped in front of Dean and dropped his eyes, "I spaced out again, huh? Sorry…"

"Don't apologize Sammy, you're okay. This is real … just remember that, okay?" he cupped a shoulder reassuringly. "Now, come on inside Bobby's makin' his spicy chili."

It was quiet and Dean wasn't sure what woke him, it had been a quiet week since Sam's last space out and he'd seen Gavin for all his sessions this week and now they had the weekend to look forward to. Dean knew he was awake for a reason and he listened to the room and didn't hear his brother's slumbers, but dammit they had the door rigged he'd hear if Sam was slipping out. He sat up and looked at the opposite bed, no kid brother and the door was wide open. Okay, so the make-shift door rigging wasn't much just some Christmas jingle bells on a leather door hanger that hung off the knob. Dean saw they were missing and sure enough his brother it appeared had removed them and placed them on his bed. Dean was up and on the move. He stood in the hallway, his bare feet on the cool wood floor. He glanced at the hallway bathroom and it was clear no one was in there. He searched the rest of the second floor minus Bobby's room. He didn't want to get him involved just yet, it was 3 AM and he wanted to let him rest, if he could.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice called out downstairs confident if he didn't yell his voice wouldn't carry all the way upstairs and beyond Bobby's closed door at the end of the hallway. "Sammy, where are you?" he walked into the kitchen, nothing, back out to the door, it was closed and still locked. He went back into the kitchen and tried the back door, it was locked and all the windows that he'd seen were closed, so Sam hadn't slipped out that way. The Impala was still parked out front when Dean pulled a curtain aside. "Where the hell are you?" Dean muttered to himself. He checked the study and it was clear. He walked back to he kitchen and stood there. His mind was trying to think where his brother could be where would he go … and slowly Dean turned toward the door to the basement that led to the panic room. It was cracked partially open and he was positive it had been closed. The mild basement chill made him shiver slightly, his jogging pants and thin cotton t-shirt didn't offer a lot of warmth for the cold basement.

"Sammy you down here, it's me, I'm coming down." He clicked on the stairwell light and moved slowly down. He didn't need his brother in attack mode if he'd gone on another space trip. His brother wasn't going to have a gun as a weapon, since Dean and Bobby locked up all guns at night after a dodgy night when Sam was freaked out and pulled a gun on them both and then had started to turn it on himself before Dean tackled him and got the gun away. So yeah, they locked up the guns at night. But, his little brother wasn't stupid and he could improvise. "Sam? Sammy, you down here?" he saw the light on in the panic room, the door pulled mostly closed. His foot touched some fresh salt and touched some tacky material forming a clear anti-angel sygil on the floor. He bent to touch it. He tapped it with his right index finger and brought it up in the meager light of the basement. He tapped his index finger to his thumb and felt the tackiness, he looked hard at it then smelled it, his stomach dropped, it was blood. Sam had used blood to create the sygil.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice was low but thick with concern. "It's me, it's Dean, I'm coming in," he waited for a warning not to but heard nothing except an odd dragging patting noise that sounded like something was being methodically dragged and patted on the metal walls. He walked in, his attention immediately pulled to the left and there was Sam working on the tail end of a large sygil and there were other sigils and symbols on the walls, some he didn't recognize at all. Dean's eyes fell back on his brother, the blood, so much blood on the walls. "Sammy?"

His brother looked at him then, pale, sweaty, his eyes focused on his big brother, "Shh, Dean, he'll hear you … gotta keep him out, all of them out. Have to finish this…" Sam turned back to his work.

"Sammy, it's all good you can stop," Dena tried to coax as he got closer. Sam had the demon killing knife clutched in his left hand.

"Nonono, have to do this," Sam insisted. "Need more …" Sam's voice was distracted as he tried to finish off a symbol inside the sygil but didn't have enough blood to finish it. Before Dean could reach him he saw Sam turn his back but it was clear he was cutting himself.

"Sammy! No!" Dean shouted and grabbed his brother. He shook his brother's left hand dislodging the knife. It skittered across the floor and stopped across the room. Dean turned Sam toward him and looked at the damage. "Sam?" his voice choked. "What have you done to yourself?"

"Sorry, I didn't finish Dean," Sam whispered, his voice sounding far away. "Sorry, I couldn't protect you and Bobby, sorry…" his voice was barely audible and with that his eyes rolled up and his legs folded. Dean caught him easily, his heart hammering against his sternum as Sam folded boneless into Dean's chest as he held his brother against him. There was a lot of blood …

"Oh, god, Sammy?"

**To Be Continued**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** The characters of "Supernatural" were created by Eric Kripke and are owned by the CW Network. No profit is being made.

**Note to Readers: **Thank you for the reviews, PM's and comments they are all appreciated. Sorry, for the delay in posting but I had a lot going on in real life. Here is chapter 10 and the final chapter. I had said I'd finish before the September 23 premiere of Season 7 and I have. I hope this final chapter is an enjoyable one. Happy Reading, I hope!

**Timshel**

**Chapter 10**

By Dawn Nyberg

"We should have heard something by now Bobby," Dean was leaned forward his forearms resting on the tops of his legs. His eyes scanned the trauma doors that went into the ER treatment rooms.

"Easy, son," Bobby tried to calm him before he ended up pushing his way in there to find out about his brother. "We'll know something as soon as they can come out, okay? I know you're climin' out of your skin boy, so am I, but we gotta be patient, you hearin' me?" Dean looked at the older hunter, his surrogate father and nodded.

Dean looked over at the double doors leading back into the ER just as they opened and saw Dr. Ryan following another doctor out. Dean assumed this was the doctor treating his brother. Dean was already walking toward them with Bobby at his side. "How's my brother?"

"You must be Dean," he said as he looked at the young man. "I'm Dr. Walker and I've been treating Sam. Dr. Frank has filled me in on Sam's PTSD treatment he's been receiving." Dean cast an undefined look beyond the doctor's shoulder at Gavin Frank.

"I told him that Sam has severe PTSD following a trauma," Gavin explained further making sure Dean understood he hadn't filled this physician in on Hell and hunting. Dean just nodded at the doctor.

"So, how is?"

"Well, his blood counts were a little low from the blood loss, enough that he's getting transfused as we speak and he's on some IV fluids, as well. Some of the lacerations on his hands and arms required stitches … about forty total and the rest of the cuts were superficial. I would have asked for a psych consult for self harm but after being filled in that Sam was most likely experiencing a flashback brought on by the PTSD I'll leave his psychological care in the hands of Dr. Frank. I'd like to keep him overnight here in the ER for observation but I suspect in a few hours once the sun is up you can take him home.

"Thanks doc, can I see him?"

"Of course, he's been awake a little but he's mostly sleeping which is to be expected. You can stay with him until he's discharged if you'd like."

"Thanks."

"Well, feel free to page me if you need anything I'm on duty all night. I'll be back by to release Sam in the morning." Dean nodded.

"He's gonna be fine son, you heard the doc," Bobby cupped one of Dean's shoulders.

"Yeah," and then he looked at Gavin. "What happened tonight can't happen again," Dean's eyes were deadly serious. "He could have bled to death," Dean's statement was matter of fact. "If I hadn't woken up he could have died. Dammit he painted the panic room with sigils made of his own blood because whatever memory he was locked in he thought he was protecting me and Bobby. This can't keep happening…"

"You're right," Gavin agreed. "There is this treatment center…" he was cut off quickly.

"No way in Hell," Dean ground out under his breath. "The last thing Sammy needs is to be cut off from his family. I ain't lockin' my brother up somewhere. You said you could help him and if you can't then you find someone who can that won't think he's a nut job."

"I don't have to turn your brother's treatment over Dean. We'll figure something out, okay. All of us, including Sam, okay?"

Dean nodded tightly and left to go to his brother. Bobby waved him on, "I'll be along shortly." Dean offered a fraction of a smiled and left.

Dean settled into the chair quietly next to Sam's gurney. He thought his little brother was resting until a shaggy head turned toward him. "Sorry, man, I didn't mean to wake you," Dean lamented.

"You didn't," Sam replied. "I just had my eyes closed."

"Nauseous?" Dean asked as he looked at the bag of blood being infused into his brother. He remembered getting transfused once and it was all kinds of lousy.

"A little," Sam confessed.

"They can give you something you know to help with that," Dean offered and started to stand to find someone. Sam reached his arm over the railing on his gurney and snagged Dean's sleeve.

"No, don't. I'm okay. It's been worse with the flu. Just," he paused. "Just stay." Dean offered a small reassuring smile and sat back down.

"Sure Sammy, I'm not goin' anywhere." He reached through the guard rails and squeezed Sam's left bicep.

A moment passed and then Sam spoke again his eyes cast down not looking Dean in the face. "Sorry, for what I did."

Dean sat there stunned for a moment. "Sammy, you didn't do anything to apologize for. You were a little mixed up that's all. It's gonna be okay."

"I want to believe that Dean but …" he paused. "I know how messed up I am, do you?" Dean looked away and his jaw involuntarily flexed. Sam watched the internal struggle inside his big brother.

"You're not messed up Sammy," Dean started and looked at his brother. "I'm not livin' off in Fantasy Land, okay? Look we all got issues, both of us have Hell baggage, but you spent more time there than I did. I get that and maybe you need to not be so hard on yourself."

Sam heard his brother's words and the unwavering support behind them. "Yeah, I guess you have a point," Sam agreed quietly. Dean watched him a bit surprised at his brother's words. "I know what I have to do Dean…"

"What you have to do?" Dean asked confused. "You mean continue therapy?"

"That but…" Sam paused and Dean felt his chest tighten at the silence.

"But what Sam," Dean pushed.

"I gotta let it in Dean, all of it," Sam said looking into his sibling's eyes and his stare didn't waiver.

"What? You mean all the memories, no, no way in Hell," Dean stood abruptly. He lowered his voice. "You can't anyway Sam," Dean started. "You get random memories and the doc sparks specific ones sometimes when he asks certain question. You can't access it all."

"Dean," Sam's voice was patient and quiet. "The wall Death put up in my head may be broken to crap but maybe I got my own you know…"

"You mean blocking some of them yourself?"

"We all do it … you did it when Dad died. You didn't want to feel stuff," Sam watched Dean look down and turned his face away. Sam reached over and settled his hand on top of his brother's hand that lingered on the guard rail. "It's okay Dean, I get that's what you needed and you dealt with it in your own time. It's time Dean. I can't let these memories and flashbacks own me. It has to end now." Sam was taken aback when he saw his brother's eyes when they turned toward him … they were glassy with tears.

"It could be too much Sammy, I can't … I can't lose you," Dean said quietly. Sam let the plea behind the words settle over him.

"You're not going to lose me," Sam encouraged. "I can run for awhile Dean but sooner or later it's gonna bite me in the ass. Let me try with Gavin, okay? I need to do something to get more of a grip on this crap in my head. This can't happen again," Sam motioned to his bandaged cuts and the transfusion tubing. "I don't want to end up hurting you or Bobby, I couldn't live with myself."

"Sammy, you wouldn't," Dean said firmly.

"You're right I wouldn't but I'm not me in those flashbacks Dean. I don't see you, I don't hear you … I see Lucifer, Michael, the cage, Hell … I could hurt you both and not even know it until I snapped out of it. My treatments with Gavin have to go up a few notches. I have to get a grip on this stuff in my head."

"Look, we'll try it your way but only after we talk to Gavin, okay? I want his professional opinion … deal?"

"Yeah, okay," Sam replied. "Deal, I can live with that." He yawned and Dean offered a rueful smile.

"Get some sleep Sammy. The doc said he'll probably turn you loose in the morning. I'll be here."

Dean and Bobby waited outside in the waiting room of Gavin Ryan's office. The secretary was gone for the day and Sam was the final appointment. It had been two months since Sam had ended up in the ER with cuts and blood loss. He had been seeing Gavin and assimilating more and more memories. They'd had a couple set-backs but overall Sam was doing a lot better that Dean and Bobby could have hoped for. Sam wouldn't wake up screaming anymore at home but there were a few nights of gasping awake or wake up Dean because he was whimpering or crying in his sleep.

Dr, Ryan came out with Sam behind him. Dean and Bobby stood, "Sammy?" Dean looked at his brother and tried to gauge his state of mind. His brother nodded that he was okay.

"Well, Sam, you have my number, all right?"

"Yeah, I got it right here," Sam patted his pocket.

"Wait, what're you two talkin' about?"

"Gavin's gotta go home sometime Dean. He thinks I'm ready for the day to day on my own. I think he's right." Dean stood there frozen and Bobby decided to fill the speechless void.

"Have you both lost your ever lovin' minds? You're both idjits, certifiable idjits," Bobby clarified. "It was two months ago that you damn near killed yourself because of some flashback that had you writing on the panic room walls with you blood Sam. Look son, I'm damn proud of what you've accomplished, I am. But you're still havin' moments and your sleep ain't exactly hundred percent restful, ya followin' me?"

"Bobby I'm never going to be the same," Sam said, his tone even. "I know I'm still having problems, but at least I'm not keeling over with a seizure at every memory and I haven't had a flashback, so bad that I get lost in it, not since that panic room night. When I flashback you and Dean are able to reach me, it may take a couple minutes or so, but I'm not completely zoned out. I'm trying to get right Bobby …"

"I now you are son, I do, but are you sure, really sure? Is this something you and Gavin really decided together …"

"I can stop you there Bobby," Gavin started. "Sam didn't railroad me in anyway. In fact, we've been talking about this for about three weeks. We both decided he can call me once a week to check in no matter where he is just in case the boys are out hunting. If he doesn't touch base with me on any given week, I'll call Dean first to check on Sam and if I can't get him I'll call you. Sam and I have agreed to this. I've given him a prescription for some nightly medicine that will help with the PTSD nightmares. I'm going to have him take them every night for a month and then let him use them as needed. If his nightmares are getting better then he may decide to stop the meds, we'll see."

"Can I call you if I have questions or I'm worried about him?" Dean chimed in. Sam looked at his brother and wanted to be annoyed but he saw the concern and love in Dean's eyes. He couldn't be angry for being loved, for being cared for.

"Of course, you or Bobby any concerns at all, please don't hesitate to call me," Gavin handed both me a crisp, baby blue business card with his home phone, cell number, medical pager number and even his email. Dean looked at the card and was put at ease a little more when he saw all the contact avenues.

"You're really sure Sammy?" Dean looked at his kid brother.

"I have to try Dean," it was an honest answer. Not a resounding 'yes' but not a 'no' … Dean recognized it as his little brothers own brand of being realistic. He reached over and dropped a hand on his brother's shoulder and squeezed.

"Okay, Sammy. I got your back."

"I know," Sam smiled softly and for once Dean saw unobstructed happiness in his brother's eyes. It was nice to see and he believed that Sam did in fact know wholeheartedly that his big brother had his back … always.

Dean looked over at his younger brother sleeping against the passenger window of the Impala and looked back to the asphalt ribbon in front of him. They had been on the road hunting for a couple months now having stayed at Bobby's to let his arms and hands heal and stitches to be removed and simply just to have some more time. They stayed for three more months after Gavin returned home from treating Sam. His little brother had healed physically from his lacerations and the scars were barely visible on his palm and arms. Sam had had a couple or so set-backs with some more violent flashbacks but he was working things through. Dean had made sure Sam kept up with his phone calls to the doctor and even now Sam still checked in at least once every couple weeks sometimes more. Sam wasn't healed, no quick fix miracles were in store for him and they both knew it. He zones out sometimes caught in a memory but a gentle touch or nudge from Dean always pulled Sam back. He had headaches sometimes after flashbacks but no more seizures and Dean hoped that his brother would never have to endure another one.

Sam's hand twitched slightly in his sleep and Dean looked over at him. Sam's brow was creased and his big brother understood. He pulled over on the empty back road the wheels of the Impala gently left the black asphalt and crunched onto the gravel shoulder. "Sammy?" Dean asked keeping his voice low.

Sam remained asleep and Dean could see a sheen of perspiration gathering on his brother's face. "Sammy, man, it's okay," Dean assured. He gently clasped his brother's forearm. Sam whimpered and Dean squeezed a little harder and gave a slight shake.

"Sam, wake up," his voice a little firmer and that worked. Sam jerked away from the window as his eyes darted around quickly. He looked like a caged animal, afraid and ready to fight for its life if anyone or anything came near it. "Sammy?"

Panicked eyes looked at Dean and there was a moment of no recognition in them. "Sammy, it's me … you know who I am? Where you are?" Dean had to ground him with questions make him think. Sam looked around for a moment and his eyes came back to his brother.

"Dean," his voice a whisper, a little unsure as his eyes looked back into his brother's, "Dean," the voice was firmer, more sure and Dean smiled.

"Yep, yours truly," he smiled.

"Just a dream? This is real," Sam stated more for himself than Dean but his big brother answered anyway, validating him.

"Yeah, Sammy, just a crap bad dream."

Sam nodded.

"Ready to get back on the road?" Dean questioned. Sam nodded tentatively but before Dean could put the car back into gear Sam's hand on his arm stopped him.

"Wait."

"You okay?"

"I will be," Sam answered honestly. "I just…" he paused and looked out his window into the field they had parked by.

"Just what Sammy?" Dean kept his voice low. Sam looked at his big brother and saw the caring there, the love and he smiled dimples and all. Dean couldn't help himself he smiled, too.

"Just," Sam began, "you know thanks … for being there ya know."

"You'd do the same Sammy …" Dean reached over and cupped the back of his brother's neck. "I've always got your back Sammy."

Sam nodded, "I got yours, too, you know that right?" Dean shook his head with a chuckle of brotherly understanding … chick flick moment be damned.

"Yeah, I do," his voice was rough. "You ready?"

Sam nodded and Dean released his gentle hold of the back of his brother's neck and returned it to the gear shift. Sam pulled out the map and looked at it and then folded it back up.

"Another ten miles you can pick up route 202 to the interstate, we can be in West Virginia by nightfall." Sam said easily.

"Sure thing Mapquest," Dean smirked. Sam flipped him off but laughed anyway. Sam wasn't fixed. Probably never would be completely but he'd been through Hell and was coming through the other side. Dean couldn't be more proud … they were brothers, a united front.

"_When brothers agree, no fortress is so strong as their common life" ~ Antisthenes_

**THE END**


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